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We touch each others cold hands in the middle of the night
Stars like wistful children playing under the moon
It's just a game she squeals
I hear her speak
Just like you
The same thoughts go round and round
Like gravity
We all fall down
She takes a grain of salt
Throws it over her right shoulder
We are home I think
She leans into me
Her breath is gentle
Like a slow train gurgling through the shade
No time for superstitions
We are chicken shit
January sane
I will take a figure
Measure things out
She will be there
Of course
And eventually all will be well
I watch her face
It is calm and still
Asleep in the cold touch of night.